


Safe to Be Broken

by KwestShunMark (XCLayMacionPoint)



Category: Naruto
Genre: F/M, Family, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Light Angst, Loneliness, Rituals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-18
Updated: 2019-06-18
Packaged: 2020-05-14 00:04:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19261894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XCLayMacionPoint/pseuds/KwestShunMark
Summary: From an empty room to a vibrant home.June 2019 Prompt for Armada: Rituals/Family





	Safe to Be Broken

The cold blanketed every inch of wood cupped with shadows and cradled in darkness, but this was usual. Naruto returned to this apartment after each mission to see thin layers of dust coating the uninhabited space. A single stream of silver moonlight split the black. It was this that made him enter with renewed resolve. His life had been nothing but loneliness, of an empty room to return to, with only slivers and splits to remind him that this state was not of permanence, but of beginnings. 

Naruto cleared the darkness with a flick of the light and a determined huff. His hefty traveling bag toppled to the floor and forced up a puff. When the door closed behind him, he quickly went to the sink where snatched out the rag he kept beneath it. It was slightly wet from some slapped together solution he’d created a long time ago, which was sufficient for him. He set to wiping everything down with the used rag. As he collected dirt which splayed in angles against the pressure he applied, he’d open and refold it to use a less black spot. 

When the smell of the towel became too much, he threw the window open and let the fresh air flow through. With the tables, counters, and chairs all “cleaned” of debris, he tossed the rag into the sink and sunk onto the edge of the bed. The sound of the springs straining beneath his weight punctured the soft coo of the wind. The curtains whipped upward on either side of him carrying a greater chill, and he shut the windows again. 

With a tap to his forehead, Naruto recalled what was next. He took a cup from the small wooden cupboard and filled it to the brim with water from the tap. After an awkward lean forward to press his lips to the rim and slurp in an attempt to keep the water from sloshing over the edges as he lifted it, he slowly tilted his head back with each noisy gulp. Just a few clear drops rolled down from the corners of his mouth, but he stayed steady until the final swallow. His deep exhale reverberated in the small apartment and was followed by a sigh of content. 

And it was time to bathe. He threw off his clothes in random directions as he made his way to the restroom. It was a process that always began at the top of his head with thick clumps of suds combed and kneaded through his spikey blonde hair. It deafened the color and had it sticking to the sides of his face. Then the scrubbing began from his right pectoral to the left, then down the length of his arm. He continued this process, from one limb to another in such a comfortable order that his body moved almost robotically. When he finally finished the bottoms of his feet, he took hold of the handle in his shower so as not to slip. When he returned to his room, a blast of cold air hit his bare chest. He shivered and padded to grab his pajamas from a drawer he’d thrown them into. 

Finally, he brushed his teeth. It was not thorough at all, but quick and with the urgency of completing the task more so than accomplishing it. Tucked under his thin covers, he led his lids fall to half. Routine was all he had in these quiet times. He often wondered how coming home to something less empty might differ. Would he be able to finish his routine? Would it be too unpredictable? Or would his routine be just as secure and straightforward, but with company? It would be less… his eyes widened enough that the sliver of light over him became clear again. 

Lonely.

Just as quickly, his eyes shut tight, and he gripped the sheets in his hand. The feeling that crept up his spine every time things became just too quiet, and his movement came to a stop. The sounds of wind bounded off the window, the screeches of the springs beneath his slight shifts clawed at his sense of content and dragged him back into the expanse of darkness he always tried to ignore. 

Enveloped in that sense of dread marked by the ever-present nothingness and lack of individual warmth, he opened his eyes to see the moonlight flicker, but remain. Ah, there it was. Not permanence, but a gentle reminder that he was changing it. Someday the darkness would cower against the vibrant cool moonlight and be cast to the corners to make room for the sun. 

Someday. He just needed to make it to that day.

**Years Pass**

The cold blanketed the first few feet and darkness spilled across the threshold, but it could not travel further. It began here with a call into the entryway that Naruto had returned home. The telltale sound of slippers slapping against the hardwood floor ignited the tired sun within him. Lights fought against the shadows, carrying with them Hinata who approached with a cold glass of water in one hand and the other supporting herself against the wall. He stepped out of his shoes and met her halfway down the hall. When he took the glass, her hand naturally rested on her outstretched belly. She watched as he drank it down until his head was tilted far back and the protruding orb of his throat bobbed in full view. She collected the glass as he let out the exaggerated exhale that she recalled so fondly. Naruto took the opportunity to move closer, and he stole the gentlest press against her lips. A warmth spread evenly through them when he lifted his head and smiled.

“The bath is ready for you.” Hinata’s soft voice returned him fully to that sense of ritual that he’d always craved.

“Boruto is?”

“Already asleep.”

“How’s Himawari?” his hand tenderly cupped the weight of Hinata’s swollen belly, and he continued: “She’s not been giving you too hard a time?”

“Not as much as Boruto had.” she giggled and leaned into her husbands embrace. 

“Did you already take a bath,” he asked.

“Not yet.” 

He let his nose press into the thin, dark hair atop her scalp. Yet she still always smelled like shampoo. 

“Are you hungry?” Hinata asked.

“I could eat.”

“I’ll reheat dinner.”

“Thank you.”

The bath could wait this time. Through his own will, he broke through that ritualistic craving. Tiny adjustments would not ignite anxiety or abade some oppressive darkness on the brink of spilling over. Sometimes routines were safety, and sometimes routines were safe to be broken. 


End file.
